


frozen hands, pocketbound

by troiing



Category: Holby City
Genre: Asexual Character, Coming Out, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troiing/pseuds/troiing
Summary: Post "The Kill List," Bernie and Serena each struggle with themselves and their relationship.  Bernie seems more aloof, causing Serena something of a crisis of confidence; meanwhile, Bernie is struggling with how to tell Serena that she might not be able to give her everything she wants.Features grey-ace Bernie (who is still very much trying to find herself) and a healthy dose of angst.





	1. a wound to treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [batard_loaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/batard_loaf/gifts).



> For my fellow aces out there, this may hit v close to home for some of you, so I just wanted to include a sort of warning that Bernie very much thinks of herself as broken in this fic, and says as much more than once. Serena supports her to the hilt, but for those who might be more sensitive to this sort of thing, I wanted to make absolutely certain you were aware that this features heavily in dialogue from a woman who is (best labeling) grey/demisexual, but who has zero concept that she is not a one-off, that there aren’t other people out there like her, that she is not broken. So, really, this fic is FOR you guys. But it might be a little heavy in places, particularly in the second chapter.

“I could come pick you up in the morning. It’s on my way in.” Stood by the door in her olive green overcoat, Bernie offered Serena a smile.

She hadn’t been around nearly long enough. “Are you sure you won’t stay?” Serena suggested, brows furrowed as she smiled back hopefully.

“Yes, do stay,” Jason added with a suggestive grin. “I won’t bother you.”

Bernie nearly blushed at Jason’s bluntness, lowering her gaze to the tile floor. “No, no, it’s… It’s been a hell of a day, and I’ve barely even been back to my flat. I really should make sure everything’s in proper order.”

“Alright then,” Serena replied, nodding. It was logical that Bernie might not want to move too fast. Serena wasn’t so sure that was a good idea anyway. Still, she couldn’t deny that she had hoped… 

“So I’ll pick you up?” Bernie confirmed, feeling a little guilty for the look of regretful resolution on Serena’s face.

“Yes. That’ll be great.”

“I’ll be early,” Bernie warned.

Serena rolled her eyes. “Well in that case, you might need this.” She stepped over to the table by the door, slipping the house key off of her keyring.

“Do you really think I’ll be needing that?” Bernie asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Depends how early you show,” Serena uttered, giving her a pointed look. “Go on then, take it. I’ve got a spare.”

Bernie was early, as promised, but Serena surprised her at the door, dressed and ready. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she demanded, practically shooing Bernie off the front stoop just as soon as she’d arrived.

“Serena, I came early to make sure you were ready to go when it was time,” Bernie argued, confused. When was Serena early for anything? “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Well, why leave for tomorrow what can be done today, right?” Serena asked brightly.

*****

In the following weeks, Serena began to wonder if it had been wrong to request that their relationship be kept quiet. The leaving was becoming a pattern, and Bernie seemed to grow more distant in ways.

Had it upset her? She kept telling herself that Bernie of all people, who had been outed before she was ready and in perhaps the worst way possible, should understand. That it was ridiculous to think that the growing instability of their relationship in private moments at one of their homes was some sort of petty tactic on Bernie’s end. No, no, that was impossible; it wasn’t like Bernie at all. But there weren’t many other options, and Serena felt like a sinkhole was forming in her chest.

She bought two new blouses, and Bernie complimented each in turn. A new lipstick left a glimmer in Bernie’s eye and a lascivious “Have I mentioned your lips look absolutely delectable today, Ms. Campbell?” on her tongue in the quiet of their office. And then the compliments dwindled, and although Bernie folded her knees up to her chest and curled her body against Serena’s while they watched various and sundry documentaries and game shows with Jason, Bernie seemed in some ways a great deal more aloof.

To a point, Serena realized at last, the sexual chemistry they had toasted so many months ago seemed to have dissipated entirely, and honestly, she was beginning to blame herself. This was a very new phenomena to Serena, who had always been quite confident in herself and her sexuality.

Maybe it came with the territory?

But then, maybe Serena just wasn’t a decade-younger, impossibly fit army anaesthetist.

No, no, she was new to this and uncertain, Serena pressed herself to believe.

*****

“How do, um. How do you feel about where we are. In our relationship?” she asked, bundled in a shared blanket, arms linked and fingers tangled.

“Oh.” Bernie shifted a little, offering Serena a warm smile. “I, uhm. I’m happy.” Her tiny laugh was endearing, the way her lips curled up just at the corners even more so. Most of all, the way she smoothed the back of Serena’s hand with her free palm. “You?”

“Ah, well,” Serena began with a shrug. “I like where we are. I - I _love_ where we are. I just can’t help thinking what our next step might be.”

Serena watched, puzzled and insecure, as Bernie deflated a little. “...oh.”

“D’you, um. Did you want to be more… public? About us?” Serena asked, and Bernie visibly relaxed again, though her answer was unexpected.

“No. Well… That would be nice, yes, but I wouldn't dream of asking that of you, Serena. I was… outed on the floor; it was terrible. Not just because everyone suddenly knew that I'd been cheating, but… well, it was with a woman, wasn't it. We were already criminal enough just for being together.”

Serena withdrew a little for a better look at Bernie, brows furrowed. “Really? I don’t think so.”

Bernie managed a little breath of mirthless laughter, messy curls bouncing as she shook her head rapidly. “That’s because you’ve never really had to think about it, Serena; it hasn’t been your life until recently. I can remember falling for other girls and being terrified of what would happen if anyone found out. Until I was twenty-four, homosexuality was classified as a mental illness! Imagine spending your nights, wondering if you’re sick and you just - just don’t know it.”* The pitch of her voice changed as she spoke; by the end, her fingers were twined so tightly with Serena’s, she thought Bernie might try to take her hand off.

“Sorry.” There was sincerity in the simple apology, a warmth in Serena’s gaze when Bernie glanced at her.

“No, no. Me too. Just. Different worlds.” Her grip slowly relaxed, and Serena reached over with her free hand to touch Bernie’s thigh. “That’s far from the worst of it, you know.”

“I know. I didn’t think about it from that perspective.” Serena shrugged helplessly. “Can’t see what’s right in front of me, sometimes.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Can’t see the wood for the trees.” Too warm. Her eyes glimmered.

Bernie laughed, bright and absurd. “Stop.”

Serena grinned, giving Bernie’s hand a squeeze. “Alright.”

But the question from before gnawed at her, and looking at Bernie didn’t make it any easier. Bernie sensed something was wrong, canted her head to the side while Serena stared absently at her.

“What is it?” she asked cautiously, brows furrowed at Serena’s uncertain gaze.

“Ah.” Serena shook herself back to reality. “Oh, nothing. No, no, it’s not nothing. Just. Well, next step.”

Bernie’s face fell. “Right.”

Mustering the most casual tone she was able, Serena shrugged. “If you want to take it slowly...”

The grip on her fingers went slack. “No, Serena… that’s not it,” she promised, trying for another squeeze, but Serena had already pulled her hands away. “Serena?”

Serena pursed her lips into a hard line, looking at everything but Bernie. Her hands, the telly, anything. Anything to distract her. She found nothing to keep her attention for long, but the silence did help her to gather her wits about her.

“Bernie, if you’re not attracted to me…”

Bernie jolted at the statement, eyes flying to Serena’s face, her pained expression. “Serena, no,” Bernie blurted, almost a plea. “No, how could you think—” 

“Well, I don’t know,” Serena interrupted, fluffing the hair above the nape of her neck in a desperate, absent gesture. “You’ve avoided any situations that might lead to something more, you… you make every excuse not to stay the night, but you tell me these things. That I’m all you think about, that... ” Serena trailed off, forcing herself to take a deep breath as she tried to reconcile what she was feeling with the words that were tumbling out of her mouth. Tried to make them make sense. “Honestly I don’t know where we stand.” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her tone when she finally finished, and she immediately regretted the clipped sound of the words on her tongue.

Bernie looked like she might break.

“Well,” she said, forceful but quiet. Nothing like the brief, bantering laughter from moments before. “That’s that, then.” She made a scoffing sound, shaking her head, and her eyes practically disappeared behind her fringe. “I’ve fouled this up too.”

Her tone was enough to turn Serena’s mild indignation and confusion into a swell of concern. Enough to send her reaching for Bernie’s arm, and to cry out quietly when the other woman flinched away. The words were not playful or casual; they were laced with resignation, with bitterness. With history. Had Serena known that the simple question was so impossibly loaded for Bernie, she might have sat on it for an eternity.

No, no, that was a lie. She had too much sense, and sense of herself, never to ask. But she certainly would have gone about it differently. How, she didn’t know.

“Bernie, you haven’t _fouled anything up!_ ” Serena reasoned, turning her palms upward as if she were trying to make a peace offering. “How can you say that?”

Bernie shut her eyes, grimacing. “I don’t know, Serena. Because I break things. Because of who I am.”

Serena made a scoffing noise. “Well then, you’d better start talking, because as far as I’m aware, you’re the person I want to be with.” Bernie had begun to shift, obviously meaning to stand up, to leave, and Serena caught her by the elbow. She altered her tactics, trying for the reasoning tone again. “Bernie, stop. Talk to me, please.”

Bernie jerked her arm half-heartedly, and Serena held fast.

“I can’t know what’s going on unless you talk to me, Bernie.”

A span of silence passed, and Bernie finally lowered herself to the sofa again.

“It’s not you, Serena,” Bernie nearly whispered.

Serena felt the irritation well up again. “Don’t feed me that line, Bernie.”

“It’s not though,” Bernie snapped back, turning her head to finally look at Serena full on again. Her eyes were intense, and a little sad. The corners of her mouth were drawn. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Sighing, Serena lowered her face for a moment before glancing up at Bernie through her lashes. “I’m involved, aren’t I?”

Bernie hesitated for a moment, then offered a troubled smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

“Then it’s got something to do with me.”

“Yes, well, you’re not the problem, Serena. Trust me, you’re… You’re the opposite of a problem.” Wetting her lips absently, Bernie watched her hands very intently for several seconds. “Listen, Serena, can we… can we talk about this some other time?”

“I don’t know,” Serena said, realizing belatedly that it was a tone she typically reserved for F1s who had more guts than brains. Bernie recognized it too, drawing her lips into an even tighter line. “Can we?”

“Serena, I _promise_ ,” Bernie breathed. “We’ll have the conversation. Just… just not now. Please. I’m not ready for it.”

Serena swallowed, allowing another silence to stretch between them until Bernie began to fidget. Then, reaching out slowly, she gave Bernie’s arm a squeeze. “Okay,” she murmured, favoring her lip for a moment. “When, do you think?”

“I don’t know, Serena. Soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *same-sex attraction was declassified as a mental illness by the World Health Organization in 1992. Bernie would have been ~24.


	2. eyes to lights in sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie gathers her nerve, and shares some of her life with Serena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got your warnings in the first chapter, and they still stand. Mostly just wanted to include some notes in this one though.
> 
> This fic literally would not have happened without Miriam (@justplainsalty on Tumblr, and to whom I've gifted this work here), as she's the one who spewed endless headcanons to me after recommending an ace!Bernie fic. (I was immediately on-board and couldn't have agreed more with almost everything she said - especially since she and I are alike in many ways. Anyway, this goes out to her. <3
> 
> Also have to thank Dax (@potofcoffee here, @magnass on Tumblr) for their endless stream of cheerleading, support, and for their help betaing this fic. They volunteered for the job, and I couldn't be more grateful. Also, they have some hella good Berena fic, as you probably already know. If you didn't, you should go check that out.

Several days passed before they so much as shared a private conversation that didn’t revolve around work.

In the meantime, they each found themselves trying their best to keep things fairly normal. There was no animosity between them; although Serena _was_ petty enough to hold a grudge, Bernie’s state of mind had thoroughly shaken her. Previously, they had smiled at each other across bays and hospital beds and countertops as if sharing an inside joke, though neither of them knew the punchline. Now Serena’s smiles were laced with sympathy and concern, and Bernie’s were evasive, yet laden with promises. They were fleeting, at best, but Bernie did not flinch away when Serena drew up alongside her with a hand passing across Bernie’s arm, and Serena did not mention that Bernie still stood much closer to her than was necessary for two people who were apparently keeping their distance from each other for a short time.

They hadn’t said as much, of course, hadn’t verbalized a decision to give it space and time, but it flowed naturally out of their conversation on Serena’s sofa nights before.

Serena gave Bernie’s emotions regarding _them_ a wide berth, and Bernie did her best to pull herself together.

One night, when an emergency surgery kept them at the hospital much later than expected (Serena had called Jason, all apology, to let him know about the last-minute procedure), Bernie placed a hand over Serena’s wrist as they left the theatre.

“Serena?”

“Yes?”

Bernie swallowed. “Listen, I’m… I’m going to shower. Just scrub off quickly.” She faltered, withdrawing her hand. “If you have time to talk?”

Gazing at her for a moment, searching her face, Serena nodded. “Of course. I’ll change, and then I’ll just be in the office.”

“Okay.”

If she was honest, Bernie had been rehearsing what she was going to say for all this time. She still found herself rolling the words through her mind as she sparred with the water temperature in the staff showers, trying not to get her hair too wet.

More than scrubbing off the grime, she was trying desperately to scrub away the weariness in her bones. The hours-long surgery was far from the worst of it; mostly, she was tired of running.

“Pull yourself together, Bernie,” she muttered to herself as she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

Finally, back in their office, Bernie crossed over to the far side of the room, settling onto the desk to Serena’s right. Close to her, not allowing for much distance between them. For some reason, the desk was far more comfortable than a chair.

“Alright?” Serena asked, gazing up at her with a hint of concern in her eyes. The room seemed dim; the blinds were shut to the rest of the (relatively) quiet ward. 

“Yeah. Just… thinking.” Bernie seemed uncertain. Brushed the fringe from her eyes absently.

“If...” Serena trailed off, forcing herself to be okay with the offer she was going to make. “If you need more time, Bernie...”

“No. No, it’s fine. Now or never, I think. Just… give me a moment.”

“Whatever you need,” Serena replied, leading her voice with as much warmth and understanding as she could muster.

Which, really, was quite a lot. It was Bernie, after all.

“Okay. Okay.” Bernie inhaled through her nose, pushed the breath out slowly through her mouth. “Once upon a time,” she began after a moment, canting her head to the side and offering Serena a bittersweet half-smile, “there was a girl. Uhm. The girl loved a boy… another registrar where she was training. She loved him enough to marry him and all that, enough to start a life together. _But_ it… didn’t take her long to realize that… she must have been broken. Because” - she gave Serena a grim look - “she loved him, and he made no secret of loving her, of doing everything in his power to make her happy, but she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it when they were together.” She paused for a moment, then shrugged and clarified: “Sexually.”

“Yes, I - I gathered that,” Serena murmured, offering her the barest glimmer of a smile as she reached out to give Bernie’s knee a light, encouraging touch.

“Right. So, she’d had other relationships before, but she’d never been wholly convinced that she loved them, so she thought that was the problem. So, with Marcus, because she loved him and because she wanted to feel what other girls felt, she kept devising new ways to find enjoyment when she was with him, which never worked. She pretended to enjoy it, regardless, and eventually started avoiding the situation like the plague… which, as it turns out, is something she’s become very, _very_ good at.”

“So she had two kids and ran away to Afghanistan?” It was not a barb; there was an undeniable warmth in Serena’s eyes, so Bernie merely nodded silently.

“So she ran away to Afghanistan. Where she fell for a colleague.”

“Alex.”

Bernie merely nodded assent. “There, um. There wasn’t a lot of sex; it was too hard to keep things secret. And mostly, she gave. Which, given the circumstances, she obviously didn’t mind. She was… able to enjoy what she received, from time to time, which made her think maybe it was women, or Alex, or… or maybe she’d uncovered some sort of secret that she didn’t know before.

“Still, when she got blown back to the UK, she was terrified of going back there. For some reason, she thought it would be a better idea to stay with Marcus. I think, um. Maybe it was the kids. And the fact that she did love him.

“She, um… she didn’t push him away when he seemed to want to have sex while she was recovering. It was perfectly safe and he…” She paused, looking anywhere but at Serena. “God, he was so tender. _But._ ” A shrug of her shoulders was meant to indicate the futility of it all. “She followed him into the shower one morning in her pyjamas. Gave him a hand-job to prove to herself she still loved him. In, um. In retrospect that sounds ridiculous,” she added with a bitter laugh, “but when she looked at him looking at her, she knew she did. Just… she wasn’t _in_ love with him.

“Maybe that was the secret all along?” She said it like she was still looking for answers now, searching the ceiling for one, pursing her lips. “But you shouldn’t have to be in love with someone to - ” She cut herself off to take an unsteady breath, then shrugged helplessly. “Anyway, that’s when she knew without a doubt that she was broken.”

“You’re not broken.” It came almost as a whisper as Serena’s fingers pressed softly into Bernie’s knee.

“No. No, she was definitely broken,” Bernie argued, shaking her head. A searching hand found a pen nearby on the desk, and she twisted it between her fingertips, desperately looking for something to ground her. “No matter what she did, she couldn’t, she… She _wanted_ to feel that pleasure, or even just the _desire_ in her belly, but even thinking about Alex… nothing she did…”

Serena remained silent this time, watching Bernie grimly. Bernie heaved another breath.

“And then she fell in love with Serena Campbell. Almost the moment she saw her, having a yell at her car in the hospital parking lot. I, er, not... maybe not romantically, not for a long time, but... there are different types of love, aren't there? She was beautiful, and funny, and bright, and she cared, and she… tumbled, kicking and screaming into love with her.” At the confusion of pronouns, Bernie frowned and rubbed the back of her neck. “I did. _I_ fell… for you. And, um.” She paused, wincing, and Serena arched a brow.

“If you need to go back to the third person bit,” she suggested with a wave of her hand. Again, Bernie recognized that it wasn’t really a barb. If anything, she seemed relieved to be able to offer a shadow of humor to the conversation. Bernie offered the ghost of a smile in return.

“Ha. No, no. It’s fine. Erm. I kissed you in theatre, because…” Sighing, she bounced the pen on the top of her thigh. “God, I don’t know. Because I was lonely and hurt. Because I was desperate for some sort of intimacy, something, _anything_. And, um, and you kissed me back. And it terrified me I think as much as it terrified you because I thought you were straight. And I guess I’m the last person who should be making assumptions like that, but it’s… it’s what I thought.

“It, uh… it wasn’t really about you when I said we should leave our partnership in theatre. I’m not blind; I… I saw it disappointed you. But I was desperate to keep it from going too far, and… and when you told me you were falling in love, it all felt like it was happening too fast; we hadn’t talked about any of it, and I didn’t want either of us to hurt and… and that’s why I went to Kiev. I - I left, because I was a coward, and because sex was the logical next step, and I didn’t want to break us.

“When I came back, Serena… When I found out about Robbie - ” She fairly choked on the words, averting her gaze and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I wasn’t jealous. Not really, I - ” She paused again, flushing a little, hugging herself. “Well, maybe a little, but I, um. I already knew you liked sex, but given that you’d been with him in the interim, I just… anything that might have happened just… the bottom fell out. It was so obvious that I couldn’t give you what you wanted, and… I… tried to run again.”

Finally, finally, she felt finished. Took a moment to just breathe. Serena waited for a moment, then stood, hand on Bernie’s knee again.

“So, um,” Bernie added at last, eyes flickering desperately across Serena’s face, unsure of how to read her or how to proceed. “I guess what I’m saying is that um… as much as I want this to work… I don’t think it can.”

It felt lame, weak, maybe even anticlimactic even as the words tumbled out of her mouth, but Serena looked like she’d just been delivered a blow. “How can you say that, Bernie?” she asked quietly, eyes dark with concern, with hurt, with so many things. “Yes, _yes_ I like sex - I _love_ sex.” Bernie closed her eyes as Serena reached out tentatively for Bernie’s face, but did not withdraw from the touch. With the tips of her fingers, she pushed the fringe out of Bernie’s eyes, lips pursed into a somber smile when Bernie met her gaze again momentarily. “But Bernie… how could you possibly think that - that wanting your body would make me stop wanting the rest of you? That… having your body could be more important than having your heart?”

Bernie’s eyes flashed upward to meet Serena’s again, and for a moment, she looked every bit like a startled doe.

“Serena…”

“As long as your heart’s on the table,” Serena said slowly, carefully, moving just a little closer. “I will take every bit of you you’ll give me and not a _sliver_ more.” She said it like a vow. “The rest… the rest we can talk about. Later.”

And Bernie Wolfe, who had never shown a moment of weakness during her divorce - who had, in fact, dropped her own problems and flown to Serena’s rescue time and again even while her own world was turning upside down - suddenly began to cry.

She had prepared herself for every possible outcome but this one.

“Oh, come now, you,” Serena murmured. Bernie found herself guided off the desk and into Serena’s arms. All she could do was follow Serena's lead, leaning into the impossible warmth of her. “There's no need for that,” she added, arms moving firmly around Bernie’s shoulders and waist. Bernie raised her arms, tentatively pressing her fingers to Serena's sides, and Serena gave her a firmer squeeze. “Or maybe there is,” she added, trying for a brighter tone. “When's the last time you had a proper cry?”

Bernie laughed. Closed her arms around Serena for a proper embrace and laughed through her tears, breathing in Serena’s perfume and wanting never to leave.

“You do know that I'm in love with you too, don't you?”

“Yeah,” Bernie replied, breathless. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“No thinking about it. It's true. And um… one more thing.” Bernie was silent, shifted her chin against Serena's shoulder. “You _do_ like kissing, right?”

Bernie laughed again, pushing more emphasis into her voice than necessary as she declared: “ _God_ do I love kissing.”

The arm moved from around her shoulder, and Serena’s lips were close to her ear. “Well, that’s quite the relief,” she almost purred, and before she knew it Serena’s lips were against hers in an even more emphatic kiss.

Moments later, with their foreheads pressed together and Serena’s fingers splayed across Bernie’s cheek, Serena withdrew just a little. “Can I take you home now, Bernie?” she asked, not backing off any further than she had to; she did not want to end the closeness. Wanted to wrap Bernie up and keep her close, care for her, reassure her. “You’re not in much condition to drive, and Jason’s going to be beside himself by the time I get there anyway. Maybe he’ll brighten up if you’re with me.”

“Oh, I… no,” Bernie stammered, not quite releasing her hold on Serena. “Maybe not.”

“You sure?” Serena’s gaze was far too warm. “I could make you a cuppa. Chamomile? And you could stay with me.” At the flash of unease that crossed Bernie’s expression, Serena cleared her throat briefly. “Now, I’m a big girl; it takes more than a warm body in my bed to get me excited.”

Bernie wet her lips, looking at the ground rather than Serena. “And we’d do what… exactly?” she asked, confused by the invitation, not daring to hope for a more comfortable form of intimacy. “Cuddle all night?”

“Well - yes, that was the thought,” Serena replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Bernie’s gaze flashed back up to Serena’s, startled again by the words. “If it agrees with you?” Serena finished slowly, uncertainly.

“Um. No - yes. _Yes_ , that’s. Okay.” She wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her wrist.

“Good.” Serena’s smile was like sunshine. “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Jason did not greet them at the door, which Serena took as a sign that he was already abed. They settled Bernie at the table while water boiled in the kettle, and Serena took off to check on her nephew and find a few things for Bernie. By the time she returned, the kettle was just starting to steam, and she dropped a bag of chamomile in matching mugs for each of them.

“Biscuit?”

“Sure,” Bernie murmured, absently stirring the steeping tea while Serena returned to the table with a tin of digestives and a jar of honey for Bernie’s use. Serena preferred her tea - no matter the type - plain as a general rule, but Bernie’s preference had always been for a little sweetener.

Honey chamomile was just the thing, for the moment.

They passed several long, silent minutes at the table before Bernie eyed Serena, lips twitching. Serena arched a brow, then offered an inviting smile, and Bernie sighed. “Do… do you really think we can…?”

Serena was quiet for a moment, sipping her tea, and her lips twitched upward in another brief, half smile. “I think every relationship requires a little give and take,” she said quietly. “Some require a lot. Whether we make it or not, I couldn’t bear to think of us not at least giving it a go.”

Nibbling thoughtfully at a biscuit, Bernie nodded. “Guess we’ll just have to make a very good go at it, then,” she mustered, trying to sound hopeful. She _was_ hopeful; it was just hard to be, after so much doubt.

“Anything for you. Well, almost anything,” Serena amended with a wink and a shrug. She finished off the last of her tea with a flourish. “We’re equals, after all.”

Bernie managed a quiet laugh at that, chewing thoughtfully on the last of her biscuit. “What, um… What do you want, Serena?” she asked. For some reason that she couldn’t pinpoint, she wanted to put it all out there at once. But she was tired.

Serena’s look was knowing, pointed. “I don’t think you really want to talk about that right now, Bernie. Besides, we both need some time. I’ll take that, if you’re done.” Bernie passed her empty mug to Serena as she stood. “Do you need a proper shower?”

“No, no. The hair can wait.”

“Alright. There’s a washrag and toothbrush on the sink, and some pyjamas that shouldn’t completely swallow that lean figure of yours.”

“Oh… no, this will be fine, really,” Bernie argued, embarrassed by the steps Serena was taking for her.

“Hmph.” Bernie’s brows furrowed at the almost scoffing response. “Maybe on the front lines, but not in my bed.”

“Serena, you’re going to an awful lot of trouble - ”

“No trouble.” At Bernie’s doubtful expression, Serena sighed and abandoned the teaware to double back to the table. “Berenice Wolfe, I have watched you drop everything to take care of someone else countless times. I’ve been on the receiving end many a time myself.” Bernie was looking at everything but Serena, so she took another breath and guided Bernie’s face around towards hers with a finger and thumb. “It’s time you were on the receiving end of that, Bernie.”

Bernie’s face contorted into an uncertain, almost pained expression, but she wasted no more time in heading for the bedroom.

Serena joined her when the dishes had been dealt with, making sure to select a conservative set of pyjamas as she made for the bathroom to wash up for bed. Bernie was at the chest of drawers, sifting through a dish of jewelry when she entered the room again. Serena sidled up beside her, watching Bernie’s hands as she toyed with a spiraling earring.

“Not too late to rethink this,” Serena offered quietly. “I could take you home, pick you up in the morning.”

Bernie snorted. “You’d never be on time for work.”

“A very good point. Then I retract my offer. But mostly because you _want_ a warm body tonight and are too afraid to admit it.”

Bernie was a little taken aback by her words, but not entirely surprised.

She wasn’t the only one who dropped her own needs for those of others, after all.

“How are the pyjamas?”

“Perfect,” Bernie replied, despite the fact that the top hung loose on her narrow frame. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Another stretch of silence passed before Serena offered Bernie a small smile, patting her arm absently. “Well, I’ll be in bed.”

She clicked off the lamp on her side of the bed, and was halfway to dozing off when Bernie finally crawled into the bed opposite her, turning her lamp off as she came. She didn’t have to make another invitation; Bernie pressed herself flush against Serena’s body in the darkness without a word.

She was so soft and warm, Bernie fairly melted into her. She couldn’t imagine anything better or more comfortable

Serena threaded her fingers through Bernie’s hair.

“You do it too, you know.” Bernie’s voice, muffled in the darkness.

“Do what?” Serena asked with a sleepy, curious laugh in her voice.

“Drop everything for other people.” Bernie sighed, breath tickling Serena’s neck. Serena hummed quietly at the sensation. “From what I hear, Robbie might be here right now if you hadn’t made Jason your priority.”

Serena managed a breath of laughter at the assertion, shifting to more comfortably loop her arm around Bernie’s body. Somehow, the subject carried no uncertainty. Robbie was Robbie. A relationship past. “I guess it’s a good thing he and Jason don’t get along very well. But… well. Robbie’s another example of someone I loved, but… wasn’t in love with. I’d have realized that eventually. Especially with you making doe eyes at me all the time.”

Bernie tensed against her, then huffed out a breath. “I don’t make doe eyes.”

“Oh, you definitely do,” Serena murmured, searching Bernie’s face with her fingertips. The mole on her chin, the corner of her mouth.

“I - ”

Before Bernie could continue, Serena’s lips found hers in the darkness. The kiss was as swift as it was chaste, but it was enough to quell Bernie’s argument with a hum of approval.

“Go to sleep, you,” Serena suggested, fingers trailing back through Bernie’s hair. Bernie did her best to lose herself in the touch. “We’ve got an early morning.”

“Not if you have anything to do with it I’m sure,” Bernie mumbled, giving Serena’s arm a pinch.

“Touchė.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next, and final, chapter, will be a little longer in coming. The first part's written, but I'm still having a mull over something I'd like to happen a little further in the future.


	3. no need to define

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be part of a larger chapter (a MUCH larger chapter), but the next part still needs some serious editing and most of this is (only slightly angsty) fluff, so I figured it was handy to post in these trying times. Cheers!
> 
> mylittleredgirl was kind enough add her support in the beta & cheerleading departments with this and the following bits, so many thanks! *blows a kiss*

Serena groaned as she awakened. The alarm seemed louder than usual. Wincing, she nuzzled her face more deeply into the silky, messy hair in front of her.

Bernie had rolled to her side at some point during the night, and Serena seemed to have followed her. Their bodies were curled together, Serena’s arm effectively pinning Bernie to the bed beside her.

Well, Bernie could have left if she’d wanted to - without any fear of disturbing Serena, at that - but it was excuse enough.

“It’s been going off for twenty minutes, Serena,” Bernie declared matter-of-factly over the incessant buzz of the alarm. “Now I understand why you’re never on time.”

“You’re one to say something if you’ve just been lying there for twenty minutes,” Serena groused, sleepily snuggling closer to Bernie’s body. “Besides, we still have plenty of time. Did you try to escape from me?”

“Never,” she replied, though in truth she had not slept very well. She wanted to be near Serena, but was so very accustomed to sleeping alone. It was quite the unfortunate bind. “But we do need to get up.”

Serena groaned again, this time somewhat more for effect, and gave Bernie’s upper arm a squeeze. “Spoilsport.”

They’d had enough foresight to bring the spare set of clothes from Bernie’s locker with them, so they dressed in silence. While Bernie finished in the bathroom, Serena crept out to the kitchen. Breakfast aromas wafted through the house, and she found Jason standing over the stove.

“Good morning, Jason.”

“You were late last night, Auntie Serena. More than an hour later than you said you would be. I don’t know how much longer because I needed to go to sleep.”

Serena laid a hand on his shoulder, coming closer to watch as he prepared an omelette. Another plate sat off to the side, covered - undoubtedly another omelette. “Yes, I’m sorry about that. Something else came up, Jason. Are you alright?”

“Something always comes up,” he replied, giving her a momentary, direct look. “I am.”

“Good, good,” Serena replied, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Listen, Jason. Bernie stayed the night last night, and - ”

“ _Oh,_ ” Jason replied, suddenly looking almost smug. “Did you sleep together?”

“Ah.” Serena pursed her lips, glancing toward the hallway for a moment before giving Jason a tight smile. “We… slept in my bed, yes. Beyond that, we’ll say no more about it. Here or at work, do you understand?”

“I understand. Shall I make another omelette?”

“Will it make you late for your breakfast?” Over time, Serena had become much more attuned to and understanding of Jason’s schedule, but it had not been easy and still was not. Luckily, Jason had also become a bit more malleable. A very little bit, and he wasn’t always terribly forgiving about it, but the change was there, and a relief.

“Approximately… three minutes,” Jason said, an eye on his wristwatch. “But... you’re already late,” he reasoned uncertainly. Serena was _always_ late, these days. “And I like Bernie.”

“I’m glad you do,” Serena said with a smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to finish?”

Jason took his eyes off the pan just long enough to give Serena a disapproving look. “You’ll ruin it.”

“Excuse me?” Serena asked with half a laugh.

“What’s all this?”

Bernie stood in the doorway, hands pushed into her trouser pockets, tentatively watching Serena and Jason at the stove.

Jason was the first to react. “Good morning, Doctor Bernie. Did you sleep well?”

“Um.” She cast an uncertain glance in Serena’s direction before replying. “Yes, very well. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What about you?”

“I did. Auntie Serena promised to be home by eleven, and she wasn’t, so I went to bed before you arrived. But that’s alright; I’m my own man. Although it was later than intended.”

Bernie managed a small smile as she moved further into the room. “That you are.”

“Jason’s making omelettes for everyone,” Serena declared, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the stove.

“Oh...” Bernie trailed off, lowering herself into a chair. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Serena tutted, pouring glasses of juice. “You’re a guest in this house, and yesterday was not an easy one. We ought to start this morning off right.”

“By being late,” Jason scolded matter-of-factly, turning to give Serena a _look_. Serena pursed her lips in Bernie’s direction, and Bernie couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “I make good omelettes,” Jason added to the argument after a moment, smiling in Bernie’s direction as he slid the last one onto a clean plate.

“Did, um. Alan? Teach you?” Bernie asked, watching as Serena selected the first, coolest omelette for herself. Of course she would.

“He did. Mine aren’t as good as his, but they’re much better than Auntie Serena’s.”

Bernie laughed again, quietly. “Isn’t Auntie Serena a good cook?”

“Not very,” Jason replied with token honesty, serving himself and Bernie and taking a seat as Serena laid out a third set of flatware.

Jason was animated as they ate, and true to his word said nothing particular regarding Bernie’s presence. As for Bernie, she was quiet, occasionally offering a response, but mostly offering up the tiny, warm smiles that were so integral to the Bernie defined in Serena’s mind. Serena served as a mediator, of sorts, and Bernie observed in turn as she engaged with her nephew. She was bright and warm and effervescent with him here in their private space, but she turned her attention frequently to Bernie, reaching out to absently touch her arm or offering her a thoughtful glance.

Checking in on her, Bernie decided as she met Serena’s eyes for the umpteenth time over the rim of her glass. It was hard to define how that made her feel.

While Jason and Bernie finished with breakfast, Serena rushed off to her bedroom again to finish getting ready. “You’ll be late!” Jason reminded her in a yell a few minutes later, though neither his tone nor his expression suggested to Bernie that he thought it would do much good.

When Serena and Bernie were finally en route to the hospital, each wordlessly stretched a hand across the center console, and they did not untangle their fingers until they neared the car park.

Both women came to the realization that they should have addressed whether or not their relationship was to remain private all-too quickly after parking. Dr. Effanga appeared to be awaiting a patient’s arrival, and had already spotted them by the time either woman noticed her.

“Alright, you two. Have a good night?” she called from several yards away.

Serena started, gaze flying to meet the Darwin doctor’s. Bernie, thankfully, reacted quickly. A gift of military training, no doubt.

That, or her life in the proverbial closet.

“Ms. Effanga. Good to see you,” she enthused with a smile as they came up alongside her. “You can go ahead if you want, Serena; I’ll catch you up.”

“No, no, I couldn’t. It’s my fault we’re late,” Serena played along.

“Sure. Well, anyway, it was a late night, actually. I was shattered, so Serena gave me a lift.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Ah,” Mo replied, glancing between them. Bernie was so cool under the scrutiny that Serena almost believed her. “Well, can’t feel much pity for you. Whole hospital knows Ms. Campbell’s chronically late.”

“I beg - ”

“What? It’s true,” Mo interrupted, unfazed as only Mo could be by Serena’s momentary flare of indignation. Chronically late had only begun a year or so ago, but… well, it was the truth.

“Duly noted,” Bernie replied with an easy smile. “Hey, uhm. Buy you a drink sometime soon,” Bernie called back before the doors closed behind them, nodding downward in a gesture towards Mo’s stomach.

“Real soon,” Mo replied, laying a hand reflexively against her heavily swollen belly.

The lift doors had barely shut when Serena said: “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Bernie reached over blindly, folding her hand around Serena’s and giving it a squeeze. “I know. But that’s easier to fix than letting her know we were together. I thought you would still want to keep it quiet.”

“Well… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“About that, though, it’s… It’s the rumour mill, it’s not - ”

“It’s fine, Serena. You don’t have to explain.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m not comfortable with who I am. Even if I’ve only just discovered her.” Serena shrugged lightly. “But the last wave of rumours has only just died down...”

“Yeah,” Bernie agreed. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m the one who chased you across the ward,” Serena replied lightly.

Bernie was not so cavalier. “I’m the one who ran.”

“Bernie…”

“Well, regardless. We’ll talk about it again some other time, okay?” Bernie gave Serena’s hand a final squeeze as the lift slowed, then stopped.

“We will.”

*****

The morning was cold and blustery, and the sun seemed quite intent on keeping to itself behind a cloudbank, thanks very much. Serena had never much minded the cold (on the contrary, she rather reveled in it for all the plush coats and scarves and hats it brought along with it), but for Bernie this was somewhat torturous. The cold did not suit her, never had, and the front that had blown in during the night had set her to bemoaning the circumstances the moment she opened the front door.

“More clothes, Bernie,” Serena had advised with a roll of her eyes, knowing full well Bernie would never be convinced to dress in appropriate layers, much less invest in a proper winter hat or gloves.

“This is fine,” she’d replied, though the mouthful of curses that followed very much belied that assertion. It did not help that the cold cut much deeper than skin alone; a front like this sent aches deep into her breast from her not-so long past surgery.

Now, parked at the hospital, she appeared to be steeling herself again for the assault of bitter wind outside the almost stifling heat of Serena’s car. Serena could hardly wait to escape it; the air felt heavy on her lungs. Bernie, on the other hand, took comfort in it.

“You haven’t changed your mind and decided that you want to keep our relationship secret, have you?”

Bernie started at the question, turning her gaze from the billowing tree limbs ahead to Serena’s face. “No. Why?”

“Because as much as I hate you right now - ”

“It’s cold!”

“ - when we get out of this car, I’m going to put my arm around you and walk you to the door.” Serena arched a brow. “Unless you’d rather run?”

Bernie smirked suddenly, hands in her pockets even in the over-warm car. “We could run together?”

“I don’t run,” Serena replied, so bluntly that Bernie responded with a quick bark of laughter. “Come on, you. It’s impossible to breathe in here, d’you know that?” Bernie offered only a _harumph_ in response, and Serena rolled her eyes as she opened the door, taking a long, deep breath of the stinging cold. “I’ll have you wearing gloves, at the very least, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“You’ll not,” Bernie replied as she clambered out of the vehicle. “Can’t move my hands in the things.” They came up alongside each other, and as promised, Serena’s arm went around Bernie, drawing her in close. It also happened that her body shielded Bernie from the brunt of the wind, though whether she had engineered that intentionally or not was unclear. “You _are_ warm though,” she practically purred, leaning in. It proved a little awkward; Serena had forgone heels today, and Bernie stood a good few inches taller as a result. Nevertheless, they made for the door at a brisk walk.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Bernie remarked once they were in the safety of the hospital’s corridor. “You’ll just have to walk me to the door every day.”

“Oh will I?” Serena replied with an incredulous lift of an eyebrow. Nevertheless, she reached down, taking Bernie’s hand comfortably into her own.

It felt nice, Serena realized a little belatedly. Fingers tangled between them, arms knotted together, shoulders brushing.

No wonder Bernie had wanted to do it.

Waiting for the lift, a wolf-whistle from down the corridor made Serena jump. Bernie’s fingers flinched against Serena’s, a split-second search for escape, and then relaxed against Serena’s again with a patient squeeze. Neither bothered to look for the source; Serena watched Bernie, and Bernie watched the silver panels of the lift doors, swallowing hard.

In the lift, she untangled their hands, smoothed her palm against Serena’s arm through the sleeve of her coat, and did not speak.


End file.
